Red struggles upright and glares at the photo on the screen, hands curling into fists. “He always said I smelled good and asked if we’d met before.”
Leroy snaps his fingers at his agents, and they shut down the projector. He talks into his headset in a voice too low to hear, and then rips it off his head. “Sorry, but I’m going to have to ask the three of you to stay in the office for a while.”
“Can I use my laptop?” Callisto asks.
Leroy shakes his head. “No, just stay here and do nothing while I figure this out.” He breezes out of the room, shouting orders to mobilize another OCB team.
Winded, I lean on the table.
“I’m so fucking sick of this!” Red snaps, vibrating with rage.
Yeah, I know exactly what she means. Every day we fall deeper into the rabbit hole of human depravity.
And if we’re stranded in here, who’s going to save Zack?
Chapter twenty-nine
Zack
Al puts his arm across the open doorway, blocking my path out of the cell.
I rumble faintly in warning, but he lifts his brows. “What’s the rule today?”
“Don’t leave you,” I mutter sullenly.
“Exactly.” He lifts one finger. “At no point are you to be more than three steps away from me, no matter how bored you get. I promised Callisto Wren I’d take care of you, and I mean to get paid.”
I snort and jerk my chin at the door.
Al pushes through ahead of me, gaze swinging around the upstairs walkway as we exit. He holds me back until the other cells empty, and then heads toward the stairs. “Today’s the prime time to go after you to finish the job, while you’re relaxing your guard but still somewhat injured.” He glances at me over his shoulder. “Not that anyone can tell.”
I flatten one hand over my ribs. They ache a bit, but the pain barely registers, and I can breathe through my nose just fine now. Nothing like the days when I fought for my life.
Al stops me again at the head of the steps and scratches his face, one finger pointing oddly up. “See that tiny black dome over my shoulder? It’s a camera that watches everything we do . . . like an eyeball. If you want to get your revenge, you need to do it either somewhere the cameras can’t see or when something else is blocking the view.”
A red light flashes in the glassy dome, and I hum under my breath as understanding clicks into place. “Acting. Record to watch later.”
He grunts. “I can’t understand a word you’re saying, but don’t hit anyone where those can see.”
As I follow him down to the open area below for lunch, I notice more of the black domes. “Cameras everywhere,” I mutter.
“And that, my simple friend, is the problem. We gotta look for somewhere we can break the line of sight.”
I nod. The people my ohm-ga works with have cameras, and they talk about angles all the time, so I think I get what he means. But instead of getting a clearer recording, Al wants to block the view. My hands heat with the expectation of battle.
We join the lunch line and as I grab a tray and hold it out for food, I sharpen my fighting instincts and scan the room to see what else I can learn.
Alphas watch us as they eat, whispering behind fists and hunched shoulders. I hear the wordsTax Collectorandhitas well asback from the hospital. In the corners of the room, some alphas start trading small orange-and-white sticks.
“What sticks?” I ask Al, leaning right over his shoulder.
He shoves me off but follows my gaze. “Cigarettes, for smoking.” He moves along the line, collecting rice and mixedgreen leaves. “They’re betting on how long you’re going to stay alive.”
“Long time,” I say immediately.
Al laughs. “Right. Should I join the betting?”
“Sticks good?”
